


Making A Bad Decision Worse

by auriadne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, First Kiss, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Rough Kissing, minor part 1 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auriadne/pseuds/auriadne
Summary: Even Felix makes dumb teen decisions sometimes....Aka that time Felix and Dimitri got drunk, fought, and made out with some morning after regret.





	Making A Bad Decision Worse

“You’re sloppy today.”

Felix grits out a grunt when he’s forced to stumble back. The tip of a lance is pointed in his face, and Ingrid grins. She managed to get in a good hit to his shin with her lance. Leaving him cursing Sylvain and his idiotic ideas. He should have never listened to him. Though he supposed he was feeling sentimental for his so-called childhood friends.

A moment of weakness.

One he’s now paying for with the dull ache behind his eyes and the vaguely nauseous sensation that settles in the pit of his stomach. Only made worse by the heat of the sun and the sting of a lance attack, yet he still dragged himself to training despite his body’s protests.

Ingrid, however, looks perfectly unaffected. Smiling softly, amused even, with a clarity entirely elusive to him this morning. He remembers her being there a several glasses in- face flushed, laughing at the stupid recounts of their childhood mishaps.

Blame the Adrestrian brandy.

Something Sylvain was gifted by one of the many noblewomen he's been chatting up lately. 

_“How are you fine?” _He complains, sheathing his sword as his palm bumps his forehead to block the infernally bright sun.

“High tolerance?” She shrugs at the suggestion and twirls the lance in her hand. The end of the pole digs into the heavily treaded dirt of the training grounds. “I left early. Sometimes the best thing is to know when to quit. I suppose half-measures aren’t your strong suit. Are they, Felix?”

“Usually when people say that, it’s a compliment.”

“I don’t think it applies to getting wasted.”

He doesn’t either.

“Have you seen Sylvain?” The least he can do is take solace in the knowledge that he’s paying for subjecting him to this.

“Knowing him, he’s still in bed. But I saw Dimitri before I headed over here. Something seemed off about him.”

Its petty, but Felix feels smug about it.

“The Boar Prince can’t handle his alcohol-“

“Don’t be rude.” Ingrid sighs. It must be exhausting trying to act the peacemaker all the time. He’ll never understand why she still keeps up the act. He and Dimitri are far from friends now, and Sylvain… well, his issues are another thing entirely.

_“And neither can you.”_

“Don’t give me a lecture, Ingrid.”

“You’re testier than usual today. Don’t forget you’re the one who asked me to train with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know.”

She brushes off his prickly demeanor. It’s something that deters most people, and only sometimes a conscious decision. Ingrid’s known him for so long, he doubts there’s much he could say to deter her.

“Try some fennel tea I hear that helps.”

She leaves with a wave, and he decides to stick it out for one more hour.

* * *

Dorothea is staring at him, hovering like the hungry cats at the fishing spot outside the dining hall.

“What do you want?” Felix asks curtly, glare sharp enough to send most people packing.

It hardly phases her, as she passes by some of the other students in the dining hall. The end of the table is clear, sans his own place setting.

“I was curious about last night. There are rumors floating around, you know.”

“Only idiots put stock in gossip.”

She makes space for herself next to him and props herself on the edge of the table. Felix grabs his plate- not ready to deal with a busybody- but she stops him in his tracks with a sharply delivered question.

“Would you be more interested if I said they were about you? Figured I’d come to the source. Even if you’re not exactly the… _sociable_ type.”

Songstress or no, Dorothea really knows how to hook someone in.

Even a guy like himself.

Felix turns. She honestly looks surprised that he’s giving her the time of day. Did he really ignore people that often? Eh, probably.

She stretches her arms out casually, yet the look in the corner of her eyes as she sizes him up is anything but casual.

“Don’t waste my time with this.” He snaps, impatiently.

“_Temper_.” She clicks her tongue, taking her sweet time getting to the point. It’s probably payback for the time he shushed her. “You and the prince had some words last night, didn’t you? Well, maybe more than words if the ‘idiotic’ gossip is anything to go by.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Its literal. Not that Dorothea would know.

He can barely remember last night. His glass was near limitless, and drinking with Sylvain and Dimitri, he’s not the type to back down from a challenge. Its left in a blurry haze after Sylvain pestered him to spend some quality time with his old friends in one of the out-of-use watchtowers near the pond.

There’s a lot of time missing as he wracks his brains over the events of last night. He doesn’t remember getting back to his room, nor does he even recall Ingrid leaving. He must have been wasted way before then.

It’s a mystery. One he’s not thrilled to have spread around the rumor mill, even if he could care less about his classmates’ opinions of him.

Though he did wake up with a few new bruises.

Dorothea’s eyes brighten at his contemplative silence.

“Ah!” Her hands clap together. “_Something did happen._ I knew it! Someone finally got past that scowl. Who’d think it was the prince? I’ll say, I’m a little disappointed. He’d be a real catch. Oh, well.”

His hands slam on the table. Just what is she insinuating?

“Wh-wait! That’s not-“ Oh, she’s already gone, ditching him as soon as she got the information she was after. He grumbles, appetite lost at the thought of the prince.

* * *

“Felix?”

His name is too familiar in that tone of voice. Its grating, and the sound immediately sets his jaw tense, teeth grinding together to keep his mouth shut.

“What are you doing here? Go away.”

“Our rooms are next to each other. That’s a little difficult. And anyways-“ Felix turns the knob to his room about to slam the door in the prince’s face. Dimitri catches it, fingers wrapped around the edge tight to prevent him from shutting it all the way.

“_I need to talk to you.”_ Dimitri says, and he sounds absolutely exasperated.

“Well, I have no intention of-“ It’s the first time Felix turns to face him. “What the hell happened to you?”

He looks like shit. Blonde hair messier than usual, sporting the same hungover exhaustion on his face that matches his own. But it’s the obvious black eye, red and starting to bruise around his right eye that catches his attention.

Dimitri looks baffled at his question.

“You don’t remember?” He manages to push his way into Felix’s room. “You punched me.”

He punched the prince drunk. Great. With the loss of his inhibitions, it seems like something he might do when worked up. He wonders what exactly happened last night.

It’s a mess, but Dorothea couldn’t have been more wrong. The next time he sees Sylvain, he’s really going to have to give him a piece of his mind for dragging him into this. They aren’t kids. Things have changed.

“Did I?” He says without giving the prince the decency of his full attention, even though he has it. At least, he doubts Dimitri has the gall to take action against someone he considers a ‘close’, childhood friend. And if some of the things he’s said straight to his face didn’t push him over the edge, a fight like this is unlikely too either.

Dimitri’s brows furrow, blue eyes fixating on him. Felix breaks away from his line of sight. “Do you really not remember last night?”

It’s hazy, barely a thread coiling in the back of his mind. A string he doesn’t care to pull.

“No. Now, if you’re done with this pointless conversation, leave.”

“Wait!”

Dimitri grabs his arm. Felix reacts as though his flesh has been seared to the bone, throwing off his touch with a scowl.

“You really don’t-?” He must realize how obnoxiously repetitive this line of questioning is, because he settles into something serious. “You kissed me.”

Felix almost barks out a laugh.

Ridiculous. The mere suggestion is a joke. Incredulous.

“No.”

“Its true, Felix. Why would I lie about this?”

His brows knit together, eyes screwing shut as he tugs at the string. There was an argument. It didn’t take much to have them sharing heated words. He remembers hitting the ground- that would explain the bruises- and Dimitri toppling onto him.

His fingers graze his lips thoughtfully.

Oh, fuck.

_“We kissed.” _

His first kiss was with fucking Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Goddess, what a cruel fate.

And in the same revelation, he mutters. “I can’t stand you.”

“I gathered that when you punched me. Though I won’t fault you for it. I deserved it this time.” He says with a pained face. “I wish we could go back to what it was like before-“

“Oh, _shut up._”

“Felix-“

The vulnerability in his face, in those eyes that have seen so much loss, it almost makes him falter. Felix feels defensive.

“Quit looking at me like that-“ He snaps.

“I know we haven’t gotten along since-“ Dimitri clears his throat and is quick to change the topic. Smart. “But I want to make an effort. Maybe things can be different. I-“

“Fuck off.”

“No. I can’t stand idly by while someone I care about hates me so.”

“It’s never bothered you when the scent of blood takes over. When you become that monster.”

His lips press tight. The muscles of his jaw clenching under the strain, the truth and frustration Felix is able to draw to the forefront of his perfect, princely façade.

“Is that how you really see me?”

“Don’t pretend its not there. You’ve never been a good liar, Dimitri.”

The prince’s eyes widen, and focus with something heavy. He reaches out. Felix slaps his hand away, but he doesn’t move when he leans down. He always loathed the day when they were twelve and Dimitri first grew taller than him. Looking up has always felt like a concession.

Lips press to his. This time they don’t have the excuse of alcohol. It’s inexperienced and timid. The touch warm and too reserved. He’s holding back.

Felix stands there, still as stone. Wondering just why he’s not able to bring himself to push Dimitri away.

His hand knots in Dimitri’s uniform. Not pulling him any closer, but holding him in place. The inklings of desperation and hunger- those dark proclivities the prince tries to hide- seep through. In the tight grip against Felix’s waist coat. The sharp digging of nails through the fabric. The tenseness of his muscles as Dimitri restrains himself in a practiced poise oh-so characteristic of royalty.

Dimitri’s mouth is soft. Hesitant in the kiss, and although it’s not what Felix would prefer, it’s not bad either.

He pulls away in a handful of seconds, but it’s a handful of seconds too long. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“That was awful.”

“It wasn’t.”

_It wasn’t._ Felix would reluctantly agree, but he would rather die before admitting that to Dimitri.

His heart races like he’s in the heat of battle. Its not a bad feeling. In fact, he’d dare to say it’s addicting. It fills his head with thoughts of how to get more of it. How far he can push him. It leaves him conflicted. He hates Dimitri. He is _supposed _to hate Dimitri. He’s seen what he can do. The brutality he’s capable of. And he’s the reason Glenn-

No. He’s not going there now.

Fuck.

Felix’s hands fist in royal blue. So pristine and immaculate. He wants to shove the goddamn prince against the wall and make a mess of him.

He scowls. The confusion and frustration he feels is mostly aimed at himself, yet he still takes it out on Dimitri.

“You can’t fake your true nature around me.”

“What?”

“Is that what you wanted?” He’s pushing it. “Or did you want to tear me apart?”

Dimitri swallows. His eyes darkening. Still he keeps face. “I don’t know what your impl-“

Irritating.

Felix shoves him. A sword hanging from the wall clatters to the floor when Dimitri hits it. The roughness startles him. Only for a moment though. Then his eyes dip low, expectant, when Felix yanks down on his uniform to crash their mouths together in a rough excuse for a kiss.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Not really.

But it’s better.

More visceral. More honest.

Their teeth clack and bite into skin. Felix tastes blood against his tongue, and his hands bunch, digging into Dimitri’s clothes just a hair away from ripping them. Dimitri’s more into it too. Fingers tugging at his hair, scrambling for purchase against his body. He pulls too hard, and the buttons on Felix’s waistcoat pop off, scattering across the floor.

He curses against Dimitri’s lips, and he has the audacity to chuckle before swallowing down his tongue.

Felix’s mind is blank. Too caught up in the ebb and flow. The overwhelming sensation of a body pressed to his. Lips and teeth nipping at his skin. It’s dizzying.

He sucks a sharp breath, blocking Dimitri off with is forearm to force some space between them. He rasps a breath as he tries to catch it, heartbeat hammering in his ears.

“Not awful?” Dimitri asks with a slyness more apt of Claude.

He already knows the answer if the heat on Felix's face is anything to go by.

“Shut up.” He mutters in a lame comeback. He doesn’t even bother looking up to see the satisfaction cross Dimitri’s face.

In the minute it takes him to compose himself, he’s already half shoving the prince through the door.

“Get out of my room. This didn’t happen.”

“Yeah, Felix. Forgetting about it already.” He agrees contrary to the smirk on his face.

That shitty liar. And people call him an asshole.

**Author's Note:**

> I beat the Blue Lions route today. I love Felix, just saying.


End file.
